


Burnt Toast

by salvabon



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Canon Autistic Character, Caring Carolyn, Caring Douglas, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Martin Crieff Whump, Medical Inaccuracies, autistic!martin, stroke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 04:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18066848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvabon/pseuds/salvabon
Summary: Martin has no idea what is happening when he's the only one to smell burnt toast. And suddenly Douglas is looking really weird and requesting an emergency landing and ambulance.





	Burnt Toast

"Post-take-off checks complete."  
"We've been in the air for a few minutes and Arthur already managed to burn our food," Martin joked, pointing his head into the general direction of the kitchen. This was going to be a fun transatlantic trip, he thought.  
To his surprise, his FO didn't answer with a snarky remark but with a confused:" What do you mean, Martin?"  
Martin scoffed:"don't you smell that burnt bread?"  
He sniffed the air: "I honestly don't know what you mean."  
Martin groaned: "Oh okay this is one of your little tricks again, isn't it? Making it sound like I'm crazy. But I've had it. This wasn't funny with the bacon, it isn't funny now."  
He was rather proud of himself standing up to his FO like that. But when he looked at him, the other pilot was just staring at him with a look he'd never seen on him (not even during the bird strike): horror.  
Martin didn't understand. Something was.. Off.  
Douglas's expression went from horrified to stone cold professionalism in the break of a second but he could still see the fear in his eyes, although he didn't understand the reason for it.  
"Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, medical emergency in flight deck, requesting immediate landing with priority and ambulance on standby" "Roger Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, permission granted with foremost priority and ambulance on standby. Did Arthur have a strawberry again?"  
Douglas turned the plane around while Martin could do nothing but sit there. Martin had the awful feeling of being right there and far away at the same time as if he was just a passenger.  
"I'm afraid not so," Douglas said grimly and opened a channel for a cabin address: "Cabin crew prepare for landing, this is going to be a quick one." Martin hears the tannoy crackling back, Carolyn was just preparing to angrily ask them why they were turning around and throwing her money out of the window but then the sound died down. She must have heard the stress in Douglas's voice.  
This was indeed the quickest landing Douglas had managed in a long time. It was also one of the smoother ones despite the speed. As soon as they had been in a standing position they already heard the sirens, ambulance a firetruck were making their way over the runway.  
Carolyn stormed into the flight deck. Martin still had his hands on his control, not having said a thing for minutes, perfectly petrified.  
Carolyn was boiling with anger and fear: "What is happening Douglas if I find out this is one of your schemes-" "It's Martin." This shut her up mid-sentence, Carolyn Knapp-Shappey shut up, and she turned around to prepare the doors for disembarking and getting the emergency service in.  
Martin doesn't really remember the rest. He heard Douglas talking in medical terms that sounded far away, he remembers a siren and laying very still, and otherwise a big black gap.  
When he came to himself he was disorientated for a few seconds. This bed was way comfier than his at home? But the immediate confusion lifted when he opened his eyes and found himself in a hospital room. He still was confused about the circumstances about him getting there and what had happened but at least his memory came back.  
He was feeling both awfully sore and numb at the same time. There was a soreness in his throat and yet he was too tired to move.  
Thankfully a nurse came in and immediately called out for a doctor, who arrived only seconds later in a half-sprint.  
"I see you're awake again, Captain Crieff," he spoke more slowly than people would normally do and it both annoyed and soothed Martin. He was annoyed at being treated like a sick person but he was one and very tired and not very concentrated.  
" We're sorry to inform you that you suffered from a minor stroke. The symptoms right now might seem a little scary but it was not as bad as it seems, thanks to the very early treatment we could give you. We're convinced that with a bit of therapy you should be fine in a few weeks and airworthy again in a few months maybe."  
He paused for Martin to process it. He didn't feel like speaking so he just nodded.  
"We'll keep you here for a few days but is there someone that you can stay with during your ambulatory recovery?" Martin shook his head. He couldn't bother his mother, she wasn't really well either, and he didn't want to stay with his siblings. And he couldn't possibly bother his colleagues with this.  
"Well, I'm sure we'll find a solution. We contacted your mother of course. She and your sister are on their way but informed us they'll take a few hours to arrive here. If you're feeling well enough, you do have visitors."  
Martin gave him a curious look. "Or rather not visitors but entourage, they followed you to the hospital."  
Martin wasn't sure if he actually wanted to see them right now but he also couldn't help the urge of wanting to see something familiar.  
He nodded and the doctor smiled at him, leaving the room to get his visitors. The nurse stayed for a few minutes, checking his vitals and giving him some water. Martin felt awfully embarrassed that he wasn't able to do this alone but tried to swallow his pride when he spilt a few drops, had trouble swallowing and locating his lips. He remembered when he had his wisdom teeth removed at age 16 and spent the rest of the day with a numb cheek and only soup to eat.  
Carolyn, Arthur and Douglas entered, still in uniform and looking not much better than Martin felt. He managed to a weak smile when he saw Arthur carrying a bouquet looking bigger than him. All had bags under their eyes and Martin wondered how long they had waited outside.  
As if being able to mind-read Carolyn smiled: "Don't worry Martin, it's not like we've been waiting here a year for you to wake up from a coma. You've only been out for a few hours." That was a relief.  
"Oh, would you please stop standing around and put the flowers somewhere where Martin can see them, idiot boy," Carolyn waved Arthur to the little table in front of his bed. Were those tears in her eyes? He couldn't tell.  
"Don't worry skip, the doctor said you'll be fine and he should know. He is a professional. He said it was only one strike so you still have two before you're out!"  
"A stroke, Arthur. Oh whatever, I will explain it to him later. We're just glad you're okay, more or less." Carolyn was indeed sounding softer than usual.  
Just Douglas was standing there with nothing to say, arms behind his back, avoiding his look. Finally, he stepped forward a little and cleared his throat.  
"You gave us quite a scare there, Captain," he said (and the word Captain didn't even sound sarcastic this time). He unfolded his arms from behind his back to reveal his hat. "I thought you might want it with you."  
Carefully Douglas placed the hat on Martin's head, who could not help but let a few tears run down his cheeks.  
"At least now everyone knows you're the supreme commander of an aeroplane and not just any old patient."  
"Thank you for everything," Martin said and immediately cringed back at his voice, which came out slurred and wrong. He could see Carolyn and Douglas trying to not do the same and he remembered the look in Douglas' face when Martin had spoken out on the plane. Had he sounded slurred and distorted like this without noticing?  
"You sound mighty drunk skip, did they give you alcohol? When I was sick as a child mom always gave me this cough syrup that had alcohol in it and it made me very sleepy."  
Martin blushed with embarrassment, he wished it was only that easy. "Arthur, not helpful. Remember what we told you?" "No but I also brought you these," He said and reached into his pocket to reveal about 7 different variations of 'Get Well Soon' cards. He placed them on the table with the flowers and stood in the corner, beaming. Martin tried to smile back.  
"I don't remember anything after we landed," Martin said as slowly as he could, still cringing at every word.  
Douglas explained how they monitored his heart rate, tested his motor skills and as soon as they arrived in the hospital gave him a brain scan and something called TPA:  
"You were awake the entire time but I am guessing the shock and the drug cocktail currently in your body are giving you a bit of a blackout. I can assure you, should those memories not be recovered, that you did not miss anything."  
He nodded. A nurse escorted the three out of his room shortly after, to give him some rest again. The next few days were a blur. He was mostly just frustrated. His mother and sister arrived after visitor time was over and only saw him on the second day of his hospital stay. His mother cried, which made Martin feel awfully awkward for stressing her out so much, and Caitlin was just awkward in general about this.  
Arthur came by every day with more cards, this time all filled out. Carolyn and Douglas had both written one each, Arthur had written two, Karl and his colleagues from ATC wrote one, Herc too, some of the engineers and some people Martin didn't even know as well. Arthur didn't care Martin didn't speak much and happily just sat next to him, reading the cards to him and then his books about bears and Egypt. He told him about anything that happened at MJN too, that Carolyn, of course, cancelled all flights except for a quick cargo flight to Ireland that Douglas could do alone. Carolyn came by with her dog (which Martin agreed with Herc, was a little ridiculous) and actually managed to bring into his room claiming it was a therapy dog. She had parked the van at her place to keep it safe and would keep in correspondence with clients (Arthur even offered to drive a few jobs for him)  
"And you're not to worry about missing work, you hear me? When you're airworthy again I'll let you fly double shifts to get back into training."  
Martin smiled, this was both incredibly nice and threatening of her, how typically Carolyn.  
Douglas didn't turn up for the first three days. He hadn't even been able to look Martin in the eyes before he knew how bad his speech was, now he must have been revolted. Martin could not stop thinking about this until, on the fourth day, Douglas stepped into the room with a duffel bag and a smug smile.  
"Hello, Martin, apologies for my absence but I was on the job and then-" he paused dramatically and pointed at the duffel bag: "I had to organise this. Drove all the way to the family."  
He put it down on the chair next to Martin's bed and started emptying everything on and next to Martin. When he was finished, Martin had an arrangement of:  
three small model aeroplanes, some lego, a Rubik's cube, a fidget cube, Bop It, two tangles, assorted knick-knacks he didn't even know and a Nintendo.  
"Some occupational therapy for your hands."  
Martin didn't know what to say. "Thank - How? Where?"  
"Martin I hope you're just searching for words to express your gratitude and not having another stroke. But as I told you: I drove all the way to the fam, my eldest volunteered to let you borrow some of her toys. The stim toys I ordered online, I thought you might like them, and the model aeroplane, well, they are mine."  
Again, Martin started tearing up. "Oh stop that, Martin, or you'll destroy my facade as the ever-so-cool sky god and we can't have that."  
Douglas sat down and opened a pack of crisps. "Want some?" "No."  
Martin had been given a whole array of snacks in the past three days by his family and friends, but he had always eaten them in private. His motor skills were still not what they used to be and he didn't particularly want his friends to be even more aware of that.  
He was walking around a little again, although he tired easily. And a bunch of doctors and therapists worked with him each day. The physical therapy was not very dignifying for a pilot, but speech therapy was the worst.  
"I can't wait to leave," he said. His speech had gotten only marginally better.  
"Sick of being prodded by needles?" "Sick of speech therapists." "That bad?" "Worse. Keeps giving me flashbacks to my childhood." "Oh, Martin I didn't know you were a speech therapy kid. Was it a lisp or a stutter?"  
At least Douglas was back at sounding like he always did, snarky, teasing, and like he was already calculating all of his ulterior motives.  
"Neither. Didn't speak at all." Douglas raised an eyebrow: "Sir not blubbering away awkwardly? What an absurd thought."  
Martin sighed. It took him a lot of energy, but he told Douglas about his parents fear of him never being able to speak, the awful speech and ABA therapy he had sat through and how he was having to do all of that all over again.  
"It doesn't help that my ASD diagnosis is in my file and all the therapists think it's okay to treat me like a child, not just because of the stroke, oh no, because I am a poor autistic man who needs to be cured."  
Douglas gulped. "I'm sorry, Martin. I didn't know it was that bad. Should I have a word with them?" "No, Yes. I don't know. I just want this all to be over."  
Douglas smirked: "Well you are certainly making progress. You sounded considerably less drunk in the last few minutes, now only rather tipsy."  
Douglas had been right, in casual conversation he had progressed way sooner than in the therapy sessions and as soon as the doctors noticed, they made sure to release him as soon as possible, to continue the therapy ambulatory.  
Douglas' toys also helped greatly and were quickly incorporated into his therapy lessons. Martin stayed two more days, in which Carolyn, Arthur and Douglas took turns in keeping up conversations with Martin and walking through the garden with him. Arthur even brought apples for apple tossing.  
Douglas and Carolyn of course immediately offered Martin a spare room while he was in recovery. On consideration of cooking skills of Douglas versus Arthur, the choice, of course, was Douglas.  
While Martin was trying to repay him by cleaning (also a good way to practice motor skills) Douglas and Herc both took turns flying as many solo-trips as possible and the occasional together, to keep MJN alive. Martin felt incredibly guilty for all of this, he knew how their company was already struggling enough. Now they were one pilot low, had to nurse him to health and needed to make sure they didn't evict him from his actual flat. And the entire time Martin was not making a single penny and living off his friend's mercy.  
"What if they never let me fly again?" He asked Carolyn on one of those days where everything was too much.  
"Don't you dare not fly for MJN again, Martin." And that was the end of the conversation.  
Whenever Douglas was there he made sure to play even more word games with Martin than ever again. He had even made a list. Martin was still horrendous at them, but it made him think and say complicated words (one game just turned out to be tongue twisters, one of his FOs more evil ideas) but he knew it was helping. After a month you wouldn't notice he had had a stroke if you didn't know. He was still mighty clumsy, still even more than usual, and had managed to drop two glasses. Douglas had made some snarky remark but in the end, didn't bother.  
Slight numbness in his arms and hands stayed for a little bit longer. By then he had moved back into his apartment (Douglas, Arthur and Carolyn made sure he had enough food though) and was allowed to drive cars again. He pulled as many jobs with Icarus as he humanly could, to get back into the routine and to make enough money. While he was gone, Birling day had gone by and everyone had been extra nice to Mr Birling. Mr Birling had been incredibly drunk and happy by the end and gave an astounding tip, including one for the "ginger pilot, the one that hid the entire day, very good of him."  
Another month went by, filled with bureaucracy and training, and eventually, he was back at Fitton airport again.  
His first day back on the job was met by applause. It was very small applause, after all, they were only four people. "Completely and utterly airworthy again. As long as I let my First Office handle the starts and landings for the next two months that is." Douglas pat him on the shoulder.  
A day or two after he flew his first job again. After take-off, Douglas smiled. "I cannot tell you how good it is to have you back. As much as you are annoyingly by the book, overcompensatingly captainy and the worst at word games, I rather have you as captain than Herc." The flight was uneventful and for the first time in three months, Martin was truly happy. Up in the air, losing at a stupid word game ("movies that aren't sequels of each other but sound like it") 

 

For three months straight Douglas Richardson hadn't been able to think about anything else but "it should have been me." He had thought it when he first heard him speak at the hospital and the entire drive to get the toys (some of which Martin was allowed to keep) and when he moved in with him. "By God, it should have been me." To him, Martin was still a kid. He, on the other hand, was getting old, had ruined his body with years of alcoholism, had sinned in many many ways (thank god he wasn't religious or else the confession would take some time) and still it had struck Martin. Martin with his chronic bad luck, no reliable income, and already fragile enough ego. But now that they were finally flying together again, his brain stopped the endless repetition.

**Author's Note:**

> I am taking a very creative license with strokes here, I only know what I learned in my first aid course (I'm a humanities student, not a doctor). The 'smelling burnt toast' thing is an urban legend and means nothing, but I find it an interesting concept. What is true that stroke patients might not be aware that they slur their speech while having a stroke and that there are so many damn symptoms. 
> 
> I will restore the educational value of this fic with this life-saving mnemonic for stroke symptoms:  
> Think FAST:  
> Facial drooping  
> Arm weakness  
> Speech difficulties  
> Time
> 
> TPA = Tissue Plasminogen Activator (breaks down blood clots)


End file.
